More in the Nature of a Dance

Rain showers confuse the month I hold, mind given to assemblies and missionaries and centuries long past. As breezes moan in the hollows and apple blossoms sift down like stricken butterflies. Perception is a habit yet what is unbroken cannot be songless. One grows closer to rose bushes, one pushes against what they cannot say.

Some settling occurs with respect to time. Avoidance of hawk sightings signifies the new willingness. We paused at the field's edge, watching two fawns play, and not for the last time I wondered why "gambol" is such a difficult word to employ. J. asks after fishing and I mumble about not wanting to hurt either trout or bass and so he asks instead can we bring bagels and tea to the lake and just talk.

One senses at last the Presence and the welcome it extends. One wakens each morning, sad to discover that the necessary transformation has not fully occurred. What was the point, then, of Auriesville? For we descend into argument, and push through to kisses that cannot quite account for the envelope's darkness.

One sees that engagement begins in decision and so moves to question decision. It is better not to say "love" when one simply means "lust." Both rising and descent signify movement, so inquire into movement - what moves, how it moves, where it moves and so forth - and remember that absent a landscape movement is more in the nature of a dance than a journey. Oh when will the cartographer close up his shop?

North beckons despite all the reasons for which one wishes that it wouldn't. Are surrender and bravery all that different? A little rain, plosions of bluets the day after mowing, and rabbit scat in neat piles near the garden. The question is not with who but rather when, for the answer is always now and with all.